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Somehow, despite its millions of copies sold, the chic thing to do in RPG fandom is and always has been hating Final Fantasy VII, almost since its release. The controversy hasn't slowed in almost a decade. What message board is complete without some crazed Wild Arms, Star Ocean, or Suikoden fan beating the dead horse that is VII's glut of cutscenes and occasionally irritating characters (yes, I am in fact talking about Yuffie). To be sure, the three are great series, and some of my favorite games are taken from them, but I insist on giving credit where it's due, even if hating what many other people love does prove what a sexy free-thinking mind I have.
I could make this a much longer editorial, because I feel there's a great deal about the game to love. But those intent on disagreeing with me may not have the patience to sit through it all, so I'll cut to what I feel is the most significant. What really makes Final Fantasy VII an engaging and memorable game for me is its psychological complexity. There are two scenes in particular that stand out as really making the game what it was, so I'll just give those two as examples. SPOILERS abound, but honestly, after almost ten years, who cares?
The first is in the Gold Saucer's prison, where you meet Barret's (former) best friend Dyne. Driven insane by the loss of his family and his hometown, Dyne is such a loose cannon that he claims to hear the voice of his dead wife, contemplates killing his daughter only moments after finding out she's still alive, and even fights Barret in a one-on-one boss battle. Once defeat knocks some sense into him (a tired device in RPG land, I'll grant you), he tells Barret to take care of Marlene (the daughter) and then throws himself off a cliff. An impressively dark scene to include in a game of any kind, but particularly so given the series's popularity. It's brief, but it sticks with you; every time Marlene calls Barret "Daddy," you think about who wore that title before he did, and how she ended up in his arms.
The other part, the one that really defines the whole game in my opinion, is the lengthy exploration of Cloud's psyche towards the end of the story. This is actually so complicated (maybe more so than intended due to a lackluster translation) that I can't retell it all here. Basically, Cloud has spent much of his life deluding himself, creating whole memories and a backstory that don't exist, all in an effort to deal with a series of failures he endured early in life, climaxing with his inability to get into the SOLDIER group. Say what you will about the game's writing, but this is an undeniably good plot twist, with plenty of ripples throughout the rest of the game. His relationship with Aeris, for instance, is clouded by the fact that he's basically pretending to be her dead boyfriend, even more so given that Tifa is his primary love interest. I could go on and on, but suffice it to say that this revelation changes nearly everything before and after it. At the fifth or sixth playthrough you may still see certain lines or scenes in a new light.
Now I know I'm leaving out Aeris's death, but that one gets cited to death, and honestly, I had it ruined for me before I began the game, so I wasn't very deeply affected by it. But there are other scenes, perhaps equally notable, that I'm leaving out for the sake of saving space. I realize, of course, that there are other games and other series, even long before this title, that achieved this sort of depth. But we're not trying to figure out who did it first or best; that's an all but unanswerable question. My only point is that this game deserves a lot of the hype it receives, and no true RPGamer can claim otherwise without some kind of motivation beyond simple objective criticism. You don't have to froth at the mouth, but it demands at least a single full playthrough, and a genuine attempt to appreciate what it's striving for. I hope that I've convinced some that, at the very least, it is striving for something.
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